The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-06-18
Written for The Arkdnsdp 7rdueier.
 An Evil Face.
BY PHILLIP FALL KING.

am getting on towards middle age now, and am beginning to think ot settling down. My friends are fond of hearing what they call my experi- ence: hunt after a grizzly; rough and terrible fight against a Colorado blizzard with the chances strongly in favor of the latter; a wild race across the prairie, with few friendly Ute Indians after my ponies, all have been firm foundations for some pretty stir ring tales. But the most thrilling incident of my life happened in my own secure Kentucky home, under the dear old roof.
 It was dark stormy night in De- cember; cold and bitter. The very heavens seemed to be burdened with some great sorrow, so low and heavy did they hang. The wind was high and fierce and whistled around the corner as if it wished to sweep the house away. A heavy rain was fall ing and now and then loud peals of thunder crashed long and startling, and rolled away like the echo of bat ties distant roar. How rough and angry nature can be at times and how she fills us with awe and fright at her strange freaks of madness.
 We were in the parlor, mother, my two little brothers and I.
 had been reading to them, but as the storm grew wilder I threw the book down and we were all looking into the fire and listening to the roar and tumult outside.
 We were none of us what you might call frightened, but we felt glad we were together, and little brother ex- pressed the ruling thought of all when he said, "I wish papa were at home"
 The storm seemed to burst out afresh and was at the height of it's fury when there came loud knock at the front door. A hush fell upon us and in breathless silence we listened. A second knock was heard, and I got up to answer it when mother stopped me.
 "It may be some one in trouble," said, 'let me see."
 "Yes, and it may be some one who would harm us," she whispered, "you know your father is away and we are helpless without him."
 1 felt the force of her argument and would have abided by it, but at that moment another loud and impatient knock was heard and said, "I must answer it." I unlocked the door and invited stranger into the room where we all were, and put fresh supply of wood on the fire.
 Our unexpected guest was a tall, dark man, very straight and athletic, with black hair and eyes. As glanced at his face thought it the most evil had ever seen and he struck me at once as being desperate and unprin- cipled man.
 The damp air and rain had moist eDed his black locks until they hung in disorder, of which he seemed en- tirely oblivous. He was quite cold and stood some time in front of the fire. After warming himself he sat down and looked as if might have sat by our fire-side all his life. A vag- abond at least" thoughts veritable brigand felt him to be. The civil war had turned loose brood of them, and then we were not a thousand miles from the stamping ground of the James brothers. We were a silent, perplexed group; little brother crept close to me and I, big brother that I was, felt disposed to nestle near mother, and, in vague way I won- dered what kind of man Jesse James was. Were his eyes black and did they glitter with the wicked light of this mans? and did his hair hang like that2 I was too young and ignorant